


The Magic of Melty Chocolate

by Idreamofhazel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Coffee Shops, Dean being a flirt, F/M, Messy eating, Reader-Insert, Starbucks, dean winchester's obsession with food, how chocolate dripping down your chin can start relationships, not a coffee shop au, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamofhazel/pseuds/Idreamofhazel
Summary: This is the most memorable time at Starbucks you'll ever have.





	

You hungrily gazed at the warm, gooey chocolate croissant laid out on the table before you while taking a long drink of your very icy iced coffee, beads of sweat already dropping onto your pants off the venti plastic cup. Now it was time to decide how to best eat this messy treat because the lord and all of heaven knew, you couldn’t eat gracefully to save your life. 

You tried tearing off small pieces first, using two dainty fingers to pull apart the crumbly, flaky pastry, but every time someone walked past your table, it felt like they were watching you miserably fail. It was harder to tear apart than it looked. 

You set it down with a small bite in your mouth, chewing as you checked your phone and took another gulp of your coffee. Honestly, you were just biding time until you figured out how to tackle the croissant, trying desperately not to look awkward, all while feeling like you already had chocolate smeared on your face and crumbs on your shirt, not to mention the water spots on your pants from the cup. You should’ve just gotten this to-go. 

Then you thought _screw it_ and just picked the darn thing up and took a bite. And it was delicious. You actually got some of the gooey, melty chocolate in that bite. Just as you sat the croissant back onto the napkin, you looked up and saw a man coming towards you and _phew_ , was he mighty fine to look at. He was tall, toned, and curly-haired and walking _straight towards you_. 

This was it. All your dreams were coming true. He was going to strike up a conversation and you were going to fall in love at a coffee shop and drive off together into the sunset and– 

“You’ve got a bit of-” he said, finishing his sentence by rubbing his index finger by his mouth. 

_Oh_. You laughed really pathetically and grabbed your napkin, quickly putting it up to your mouth. The man smiled and continued on to the register. Your face was beet-red, you were sure. You couldn’t see it, but it had to be at least fifty shades of red. No exaggeration. 

Right as you lifted the napkin up to your mouth, two other men walked into the store, both of them super tall and mighty fine, too. Your eyes went wide. Today was definitely the right day to sit in the store and drink your coffee, forget about the awkward croissant-eating. 

One of them caught your gaze as you just sat there, staring like a creep, and _holy shiznits_ , his e y e s. You couldn’t even lower your napkin. 

He smiled really warmly at you, his eyes crinkling with smile lines, and you could tell this man did his fair share of killer grinning because you were absolutely dead. And in heaven. You had to be. 

Then you remembered the mess on your face, swiftly wiping the napkin across your mouth, and then sheepishly looking back up. The green-eyed man gave you a thumbs up and then finally joined the other guy at the register. 

Ooooook, what were you even supposed to do with that? The god of green eyes just walked in the store and gave you a thumbs up when you had chocolate dripping off your chin. Yep. You had died at some point today and were in some sort of personal heaven. No doubts about it. 

To recover, you forgot about the chocolate pastry for a moment and buried your face in your phone like you actually had something important to do on it. But today just wouldn’t let up. The two men, the god of long hair and the god of green eyes, decided to sit at the table right next to you. _What the actual heck_. 

They were having a sort of brotherly, heated conversation. Mr. Thumbs-up was grumbling about being in a _Starbucks, ugh_ and Mr. Fabulous Hair was saying how he just wanted a decent cappuccino for once instead of the “motel stuff” he always had. For being so bothered by going to Starbucks, green-eyes, who you learned was named Dean, ordered quite the drink. He had one of the specials, a blackberry pie frappuccino. He was eyeing it suspiciously, like he was deciding whether he should actually try what he had ordered. Honestly, it seemed as if he was having a mental battle with the drink while “Sam” happily sipped his coffee, just waiting for Dean to give in and drink the thing already. 

When Dean finally mustered up enough bravery to try the blackberry flavored drink with whipped cream and graham cracker crumbles on top, he closed his eyes and let out the most pleased and most sexual noise you had ever heard someone make while eating or drinking. 

“This is _good_ ,” he said, awestruck, then he turned to you, “You had one of these before? It tastes like actual _pie_.” 

You just sat there like a deer in headlights while he waited for some sort of response. You looked around for someone else he could’ve been talking to, but there wasn’t anyone. Sam chuckled, looking back and forth between you and Dean. 

“No, I haven’t,” you stammered out. 

“Next time you’re here, get one,” he said. “I’m Dean, by the way.” 

“I know- I mean, I’m Y/N.” You were inwardly cringing hardcore at your unbelievable awkwardness. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His face went all crinkly around his eyes again. “That looks good too, what’s that?” He was pointing to your croissant. 

You glanced down at it, making sure that’s what he was talking about as if you had numerous other foods at your table. “Uhh, yeah. Chocolate croissant.” 

“Are they always that messy?” he asked. 

Your face went hot and red again. You blurted out, “Only if you can’t eat right, like me.” 

_Ok, what? If they were the gods of beautiful eyes and beautiful hair, you were definitely the goddess of not-being-smooth._

Dean just sat in his seat and chuckled like that was the funniest darn thing he had heard all week. You were mesmerized by the sight. 

Sam got a call just then and it seemed pretty serious. He told whoever on the other line that “they would be there soon” and then looked at Dean like _Time To Go_. 

“Looks like duty calls,” Dean said, still talking to you, as he and Sam got up from their seats. It was really hard to believe he was continuing your conversation. “Hold on,” he said, moving one of his napkins closer to him and pulling a pen out of his back pocket. 

Sam stood there somewhat patiently and you didn’t know whether that last bit was meant for you or Sam. Dean scribbled something down and then turned around with the napkin in his palm held out to you. You couldn’t move. 

“You don’t have to take it, if you don’t want to,” he smirked. 

Somehow you mustered up enough wherewithal to take the napkin. Once it was in your hand, you looked down and written on it was Dean’s _number_. Holy _freaking_ shiznits. 

“See you around, Y/N,” he said, looking quite amused with himself. 

“Yeah,” you squeaked out. 

That seemed to satisfy him and he waved before turning to leave. Sam gave you a polite goodbye-grin and followed Dean out, leaving you clutching the napkin and staring out the door as they walked to their car. 

Forget the croissant. Forget the mess on your face. Forget the dripping coffee. You were never _ever_ going through a Starbucks drive through again.


End file.
